


Mum Knows Best

by xslytherclawx



Series: HP Battleships 2019 [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery (Video Game)
Genre: Autistic Rolf Scamander, First Dates, Gay Charlie Weasley, Jewish Character, Jewish Rolf Scamander, M/M, Magizoology (Harry Potter), Meddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 09:37:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19721050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xslytherclawx/pseuds/xslytherclawx
Summary: Molly insists on setting Charlie up on a date – but there's just one problem: Charlie's never quite come out to her.





	Mum Knows Best

**Author's Note:**

> As with my other Battleships fics, this isn't compliant with my other series, but does borrow characterisation of - well, Rolf and Charlie.
> 
> I went with an M rating to be safe on this, as I was on the fence between M & T.

“Mum, I don’t  _ need _ a girlfriend,” Charlie repeated for what had to be the hundredth time, bouncing Victoire on his knee. He shot a beseeching look at Bill, who shrugged. What a wonderful big brother he was.

“Charlie,” his mum said, “Do you  _ want _ me to die without grandchildren?”

“You’ve got grandchildren right here,” Charlie said, nodding to Victoire. “Unless Bill’s somehow not your kid.”

Bill snorted. “That’d be news to me.”

“I meant grandchildren from  _ you,” _ his mum said. “Of course Bill is my child. Honestly, Charlie.”

“Mum, I really don’t need a girlfriend.” He didn’t even  _ like _ girls; not like that, and he hadn’t quite figured out yet how to tell her. It was hardly like he hadn’t had  _ boyfriends, _ but, well, he was single at the moment.

“Just one date,” his mum said.

“Why all of a sudden?” Charlie asked. His mother had, after all, seemed to calm down a bit after Bill and Fleur had announced that Fleur was expecting – and more so once Victoire had been born. He’d sort of thought he was safe. He knew now that that was a mistake. He should have never come back to Britain.

His mother smoothed out her robes. “If you  _ must _ know, I’ve run into an old classmate of mine recently – we’d lost touch during the war, you see – and we started discussing the state of things, and it turns out that he has children your age.”

That was somehow worse than he’d expected, though he didn’t quite know what he’d expected. “Mum.”

“It’s only lunch. If you don’t like it, you haven’t got to go again, but I hardly think isolating yourself is an appropriate course of action.”

“I’m not isolating myself.”

“Charles Septimus Weasley,” Molly said.

Really, Charlie could face dragons head on, but his mother had a special talent for always getting him to do what she wanted. “All right,” he said. “Fine.” It wasn’t as if he’d actually seriously date this girl, anyway. He’d tell her straight off that he was gay and just hadn’t told his mum yet, and maybe that would make him look bad, but he didn’t care.

* * *

“I can’t believe you didn’t stand up for me,” Charlie said after their mother had left. “Some Gryffindor you are.”

“I’m a Gryffindor,” Bill said. “I’m not  _ suicidal.  _ Besides, it’s one date, and you could have just told her that you’re not interested in witches.”

“I’ll tell her I’m not interested in witches when you tell her you’re interested in wizards.”

“There’s no reason to tell her that, especially not now,” Bill said. “All that’ll do is make her think I’m trying to leave Fleur. I don’t want to open that can of worms.”

Charlie knew that Bill had a point, really. “I can’t fathom how she’ll react when I do tell her. And I do intend on telling her – it’s just that it’s gotten a bit away from me.”

“You don’t say,” Bill said. He clapped Charlie on the shoulder. “Mum loves you. Dad, too. I’m not going to push you to do anything you’re not ready for, but they won’t mind that you’re gay – at least as long as you plan on having children. Mum  _ does _ want all of us to have kids, but if you don’t – she’d be just as upset if you were  _ straight _ and didn’t want kids. Being gay’s going to be a non-issue.”

“How do gay wizards even  _ have _ children?” Charlie asked.

Bill shrugged. “I dunno. Fleur and I tend to go for the old fashioned way, ourselves.”

* * *

Charlie knew, really, that he could have bailed. He could have lied and said he’d forgotten. His mum would be furious, but he’d get out of it. But no – he walked toward the restaurant in Diagon Alley, wondering if it was too late to go back to Romania; claim there was some emergency, or that his position in Wales had fallen through.

He knew he wouldn’t. He knew he’d get through the date – which would at best just be awkward rather than awkward  _ and _ horrible – tell his mother there was just no  _ spark _ (because he was gay, not that he’d tell  _ her _ that), and move on from the whole business. Maybe he’d write his mum and tell her he was gay in a letter. That might be easier than saying it to her face.

His mother hadn’t told him who he was meeting, beyond the fact that she’d gone to Hogwarts with her dad. Maybe – he felt a spark of hope – maybe she wouldn’t even show up.

He got to the restaurant, and stopped still when he saw the maître d’. He could do this. One awkward date, and his mother might leave him alone for a while.

“Can I help you, sir?” the maître d’ asked.

Charlie cleared his throat. “I’m Charlie Weasley – I’m meant to be meeting someone; I’ve written ahead?” His  _ mother _ had written ahead, but she’d done it under his name, at least. It was slightly less mortifying that way.  _ Slightly_.

The maître d’ looked through his book and then looked back to Charlie. “Right this way, Mr. Weasley.”

Charlie took a deep breath and followed the maître d’ to a table… which was, strangely, occupied by a wizard about his own age. A wizard. Not a witch. There must have been some sort of mistake.

“Here you are,” the maître d’ said. The wizard at the table looked him over interestedly. 

“You must be Charlie,” he said, offering his hand to shake. “I’m Rolf.”

Rolf. Charlie shook his hand dumbly.

“You look a bit surprised.”

“Didn’t realise I was being set up with a bloke,” Charlie admitted.

Rolf tilted his head to the side. “No? But your mum said you were gay?”

His mum had said he was gay? “What?”

“If you’re not, don’t worry about it.”

“I am,” Charlie said. “But I’ve not told my mum.” Which he knew was sort of pathetic when he was thirty-one years old, but hell – so was going on a date his mum had set up.

“Well, I’d say she probably knows,” Rolf said. “If the current situation’s any indication.”

“I thought for sure she was setting me up with a girl.”

“My sister’s engaged, so it wouldn’t be with her if your mum were,” Rolf said easily. “So – your mum said you’re a dragonologist?”

Charlie nodded. “I am, yeah.”

Rolf’s gaze dragged over Charlie’s arms. “I could tell, really. The moment you walked in. You just look like a dragonologist.”

“I do?” Charlie asked.

“Maybe I’ve got a sense for it,” Rolf said. “I’m a magizoologist, and so’s almost everyone in my family. None of us are  _ dragonologists, _ of course, but – I’ve met a fair few.”

Wait, what? Had his mother not only set him up on a date with a wizard, but with a wizard who was, at least broadly speaking, in his field? What the fuck? “Really?” Charlie asked. He tried to wrack his brain for any magizoologists named Rolf.

“Well, my granddad’s Newt Scamander,” Rolf said.

Newt Scamander?  _ The _ Newt Scamander? His personal hero since – well, as long as he could remember, really? “What.”

Rolf shrugged. “Yeah. So – you know, my gran was an auror before she retired, not a magizoologist, by any means. And my uncles on that side aren’t in magizoology, either. But both my parents are – and my maternal grandfather and uncle.”

“My mum never told me she went to school with  _ Newt Scamander’s _ son.”

“Dunno why not,” Rolf said. “I mean, my dad was a Hufflepuff, same as me, but – they were in the same year, I think? And  _ all _ my dad’s friends were in the Order. He knew your uncles, too.”

“Oh,” Charlie said. He wasn’t sure what else to say. He didn’t know why his mother had never told him, but then – if Rolf’s father had been close with people in the Order, it was possible that it brought back painful memories. 

“Anyway,” Rolf said, waving a hand. “Tell me about yourself.”

Charlie cleared his throat. “Erm, well – I’m Charlie –  _ please _ don’t call me Charles – and I’m a dragonologist, which you know. I work at a sanctuary in Romania most of the year; I’m only in Britain at the moment because I’ve been sent to work at the sanctuary in Wales for a bit – Welsh Greens, you know.”

“Oh, I know that sanctuary!” Rolf said. “I did a bit of work there, myself. Though, again, dragons aren’t my specialty, so I didn’t stay very long.”

“What  _ do _ you focus on?”

“Conservation, primarily,” Rolf said. “All sorts of creatures – but you know, with industrialisation, everything’s been getting steadily worse for just about every creature – though Muggle activists have certainly tried to curtail the worst of it. They’ve not done a terrible job, but – it’s not quite enough, especially when they haven’t got any idea that most of these creatures even  _ exist.” _

“Understandably,” Charlie said. “Have you read much of Bendayan’s work?”

Rolf’s lips quirked upward just a bit, and he asked, “Which one?”

Charlie tried to remember the magizoologist’s first name. “Ash, I think?”

“It’s Asher,” Rolf said. “And yeah, I have. Actually – I worked with him for a few years after I graduated Hogwarts.”

Charlie didn’t know why he was surprised; surely Newt Scamander’s grandson would have all sorts of connections someone like Charlie could only dream of. “Really?”

“He’s my uncle,” Rolf said. “My mum’s brother. The sphynx sanctuary outside of Jerusalem was my mother’s idea, actually. She was working on that when she met my father. They tell  _ everyone; _ they insist it was fate that brought them together.”

“Do you think it was?” Charlie asked.

Rolf shrugged. “Maybe. I dunno for sure. We haven’t got any way  _ to _ know for sure; some people definitely still think that soulmates are just – legend, but I dunno. There’s something sort of comforting  _ and _ terrifying in the idea that there’s just one perfect person in the world for you, you know? It’d be nice to have actual magical research into it, but that’s definitely out of my field.”

“It’s out of mine, as well,” Charlie agreed.

“But as for the sanctuary in Wales – they’ve gone in a bit on conservation, as I’m sure you know, so they wanted to consult – it’s not just dragons in Wales, after all, but dragons, as I’m sure you’re aware, of course, provide one of the bigger concerns, as they’re both quite large and quite dangerous. No one much minds if some knarls get out and destroy some Muggle’s garden – of course, some people  _ do _ mind, but – compared to dragons… I’ve always quite admired dragonologists, to be perfectly honest.”

“You have?” Charlie asked. He knew, really, that his sub-field was well-respected by most magizoologists. Newt Scamander himself had really gotten his start working with dragons on the Eastern Front during the Muggle First World War. But, well, it was nice to hear someone as gorgeous as Rolf say it.

And Rolf was gorgeous. Now that the initial shock was over, Charlie let himself look at him. He was dark – tanned from plenty of time in the sun, but something about his skin tone told Charlie that Rolf could never, even under the most generous of circumstances, have been described as pale. Even given that, he had visible freckles dusting his cheeks, and though Charlie had never been overly fond of his  _ own _ freckles, on Rolf, they only added to his handsomeness. He had curly black hair, which, while not very long, was certainly long enough that Charlie could just imagine burying his fingers in it. 

“Oh, of course I have,” Rolf said. His eyes were dark brown, framed by gorgeous long lashes, and lit up when he talked – though, Charlie noted, Rolf seemed to be looking anywhere but at him. Was that a problem? Was he not interested? “My passions lie elsewhere, to be sure, but I think dragons are probably the most misunderstood of all creatures. Most people can find some sympathy for a hippogriff, or even a runespoor, to an extent – but we’ve just got so many terrible stereotypes about dragons – and, god, you heard about that dragon they’d kept locked up at Gringotts. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my mother so furious.”

“I have,” Charlie agreed. “My brother – my older brother, that is, Bill – works at Gringotts, and that caused probably as big a row between us as we’d ever had. Though – it was my other brother, Ron, who’d helped in setting it free.”

Rolf looked as though he already knew about Ron, and well, why wouldn’t he?  _ Ron Weasley _ had become a household name. Ron was still quite chuffed about it, and Charlie didn’t mind terribly that Ron had overshadowed even George. He’d never particularly cared for fame and fortune. “It’s just dreadful what humans will do to creatures,” he said.

“Absolutely,” Charlie agreed.

“That’s why I don’t eat meat – I don’t see any meaningful distinction between magical creatures and non-magical ones, and while I certainly don’t begrudge a dragon its diet – humans can and do live healthy lives without having to eat another animal. I don’t think I could stomach it.”

“Were you raised that way, or did you come to that choice on your own?” Charlie asked. He had, after all, read somewhere that Newt Scamander was a vegetarian.

“I was raised that way,” Rolf said. “Though I’m fairly confident I’d have made the same choice on my own. Of course, you know, there are certain things – my mother found tefillin – they’re leather boxes with straps; it’s a ritual object in Judaism – that were crafted without an animal suffering for it, but it’s still leather, and I own dragonhide gloves, but it’s as ethical as you can get – the dragon died of natural causes. I’ve tried synthetic, but – however unfortunately – that’s not quite done the trick.”

“They can tell when it’s not ethical,” Charlie said. “As you’re probably aware. I can only wear ethical dragonhide – not that I’d touch the other stuff with a ten-foot pole, but even if I wanted to – I’ve seen people horribly maimed for it, even though they were warned.”

“Dragons are remarkably intelligent creatures,” Rolf said. “Most creatures can tell when something is genuine – leather or dragonhide or what have you – when compared with synthetic. Muggles have got wonderful synthetics for leather. But my grandad’s Kneazle can’t tell you if the cow that made your shoes died of natural causes, or if he died the most painful death possible – generally it’s somewhere in between, but – dragons…”

“Dragons know better,” Charlie said. Then, because it was really a rather  _ excellent _ first date story, and because Rolf was so gorgeous and charming that Charlie really did want this date to go well, he said: “Did you ever hear of the time Hagrid got a dragon egg?”

“No,” Rolf said. “When did  _ that _ happen?”

“The year after I graduated – ninety-one, I think, maybe ninety-two. That school year. He’d gotten rather close with my brother Ron and his friends – of course, everyone knows Harry Potter and Hermione Granger – and apparently, he’d won a dragon egg at some seedy pub in Hogsmeade, and showed it off to them.”

“I was there that year – I don’t remember any dragon.”

“Because Ron wrote me and begged for my help after it hatched.”

“What sort of dragon was it?” Charlie asked.

“Norwegian Ridgeback.”

_ “Norwegian Ridgeback?” _ Rolf repeated, eyes wide. “How did that end up in Scotland? I’d have thought a common Welsh Green, or something of that sort – though I suppose at least it wasn’t a Hungarian Horntail.”

“Ron swears it nearly burnt down Hagrid’s hut all the same. So imagine me, at that point still the newest dragonologist at the sanctuary in Romania – trying desperately to convince my colleagues to use some of their leave, because I haven’t got any yet, to smuggle a baby dragon out of Hogwarts without anyone finding out. And telling them an  _ eleven-year-old _ is going to hand it off.”

Rolf laughed. “I certainly would be concerned if I’d heard an eleven-year-old were in possession of any dragon.”

“As any reasonable person would be! And Hagrid had  _ named _ her! He still asks after her; she settled in quite nicely, to be honest, but there was a good while where I was terrified we’d be found out, and I’d be sacked because – honestly, the entire situation was out of hand.”

“And I bet you’d have killed to have been in your brother’s position in first year.”

It was Charlie’s turn to laugh. “I can’t say I’d have known what to  _ do _ with a baby dragon in first year. Now, of course, I can care for a baby dragon with no issue – though I don’t think such a thing is really possible at Hogwarts. Maybe in the mountains nearby, but – it’d depend on the dragon, really. Not a Ridgeback, though.”

“Certainly not,” Rolf agreed. “I’d have just written my parents, really, were I in that situation. So – I suppose not too different to what your brother did.”

“At least your parents were experienced magizoologists and not teenagers just a few months out of school,” Charlie said lightly.

* * *

Loath as Charlie was to admit it, Rolf was absolutely wonderful. The only problem, really, was that he really couldn’t make heads or tails of Rolf’s interest in him – or lack thereof. He never seemed to quite meet his gaze; he did once, for all of half a second, but then not again for the duration of their meal. He was animated and friendly, but perhaps he was just like this with everyone. Charlie really didn’t know him, after all.

They split the check, though that didn’t mean anything; they were both wizards, and Charlie had experienced all possible variations on who pays for the meal on dates with men. He’d learned early on not to read too much into  _ that. _

Charlie was ready to call it when Rolf met his gaze – again, just for a second. “I live just round the corner,” he said.

Oh.

“If–if you’re interested,” Rolf said.

Charlie looked at him; Rolf was tall and, while he was nowhere near as bulky as Charlie knew he was himself, Charlie could make out his broad shoulders and muscular arms even though his robes. “I am,” he said.

Rolf grinned. “Great. We can – side-along, if you’d like?”

* * *

It wasn’t as if Charlie had had concrete plans for the evening, but if he’d had, they’d have been abandoned. Rolf was definitely a bit strange – but, really, Charlie liked strange, and he was only too happy to oblige with all of Rolf’s requests. It was a bit disorienting when Rolf slid away after they’d finished the first time, so that they weren’t even touching. Charlie was well-accustomed to one-night stands and casual sex, but he had difficulty reading Rolf.

Charlie debated whether or not to leave when Rolf finally said, “I just need a moment. You ever feel like you can’t stand to be touched after you come?”

“Not really,” Charlie said, “but I don’t mind.”

Rolf exhaled in a huff. “You wouldn’t – you wouldn’t believe how many people  _ do _ mind.”

“I really  _ don’t _ mind,” Charlie repeated. “Take your time.”

Rolf closed his eyes. “Thank you.”

Maybe it was inappropriate – Charlie didn’t particularly care – but he took that time to look over Rolf’s naked body. Merlin, he was gorgeous. And kind. And clever. And a magizoologist. And, really, quite fantastic in bed. Even if the not wanting to be touched afterward bit was a bit strange – Charlie found he really didn’t mind, not now that he knew that Rolf wasn’t doing it to avoid him, or push him away.

“If you  _ do _ want – anything more to come of this,” Rolf said after a few minutes, not bothering to open his eyes. “I suppose you should know that this happens quite often.”

“That’s fine,” Charlie said.

“It’s not that I dislike cuddling,” Rolf said. “On the contrary, I quite enjoy it. But – after sex, I typically need some time to… recover. I can tell you when I feel as if I can be touched again. I’ve got used to it, and I can tell, now, more or less.”

“Take your time,” Charlie said again. “I promise you, I don’t mind.”

“God, you’re lovely,” Rolf said. 

“I try,” Charlie said.

“You know, I’m really quite weak for freckles,” Rolf said, and Charlie was suddenly aware that Rolf had opened his eyes and was looking at him looking at his body.

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. I’ve got some, myself, but – my mum’s family’s not got any freckles at all, and my dad’s family’s all got them, and – I’d have liked more, I think.”

“I’ve got so many freckles, at this point, they all sort of blend together.”

Rolf’s gaze swept his body. “On your arms, maybe.”

Charlie felt himself blush – and, to his slight embarrassment (even though he and Rolf were  _ in bed together), _ he felt blood rush to his cock, as well.

“I think I still need a few minutes,” Rolf said. “I don’t want to get started and then feel – all overstimulated and fried again so soon.”

Right. Of course. He’d  _ said _ he’d tell Charlie when he felt ready for another round.

“Though,” Rolf said, not meeting his gaze, “if you’d like to take care of that yourself, I think I’d quite like to watch.”

He didn’t have to ask twice.

* * *

Charlie spent the night, which, in retrospect, was sort of stupid, given that he was currently staying at the Burrow until he sorted out more permanent lodgings. (The Welsh sanctuary, unlike the one in Romania, did not have on-campus housing, and Charlie strangely missed those ugly brutalist buildings on the edge of the sanctuary).

He woke to find Rolf curled up around him, which had to have happened at some point during the night, since they’d fallen asleep several inches apart (Rolf saying, again, that he needed a bit before he could be touched – and Charlie having been too exhausted to stay awake). Hesitantly – having learned pretty finitely the night before that Rolf was sometimes more sensitive to touch than Charlie would normally expect – Charlie carded his fingers through Rolf’s hair.

Rolf’s hair was coarse and wiry and delightfully curly, and Rolf made a little noise and nuzzled into his chest.

“I do have to go to work,” Charlie said after a few minutes.

Rolf rubbed at his eyes. “All right,” he said. “I need to do shacharit before I forget. You want a shower?”

Charlie had no idea what shacharit was, and thought maybe it’d be best to ask later. “That’d be great – you sure you don’t mind?”

“Of course not,” Rolf said. He reached up and kissed him. It was a deep, languid kiss, and Charlie let himself melt into it, burying his fingers in Rolf’s hair. 

After a few minutes of this, Rolf pulled away. “Maybe this is a bit premature, but I really would like to see you again.”

They’d already slept together; Charlie didn’t think it was premature at all. “I’d like to see you again, too,” he said.

Rolf grinned. “Lovely!”

Eventually, Charlie got up to shower while Rolf did shacharit – which, it turned out, was a sort of prayer service he was meant to do in the morning. Not having a change of clothes, Charlie put on the clothes he’d worn the day before. The only problem, really, was that he’d dressed for a date, and he couldn’t go to the sanctuary dressed like that. He’d have to stop back at the Burrow… which meant facing his mother.

“I’d offer to let you borrow my gloves,” Rolf said, “or some work robes – but I don’t think they’d fit.”

They certainly wouldn’t fit. Rolf was well muscular, and, oh Merlin,  _ strong, _ but he was leaner and taller than Charlie was. He didn’t even want to  _ try _ putting on some of Rolf’s robes – the other way around, maybe, might have worked to an extent. “I appreciate the thought,” he said. “I’ve been staying with my parents – the Welsh reserve hasn’t got housing like the one in Romania – and I’ve not really had time to find myself a flat.”

“And your mum doesn’t know you’re gay. Well – she does, but you’ve not  _ told _ her.”

Charlie nodded. “I hope I can put off  _ that _ discussion until after work. Have your parents – they know about you?”

“Oh, sure,” Rolf said. “No one in my family’s straight, really. One of my uncles is gay – well, he and his husband both are – and most everyone else is bisexual.  _ I’m _ bisexual, for what it’s worth, and my parents have known as long as I have. I don’t think I ever even really quite – properly  _ came out _ to them, as such. There was never any expectation of heterosexuality, even though – well, I’ve got a mum and dad. Mum says she’s sort of – half and half, and Dad says he’s more – well, like I am, really.”

“And how is that?” Charlie asked.

“I’d say it’s probably three-to-one, in terms of – I prefer men, but it’s not as if I don’t find women attractive. And my sister’s the other way ‘round, but she’s engaged to be married to a witch.”

“My brother Bill’s bisexual,” Charlie said, though he thought George and Ron probably were, as well. They’d not told him, at least.

“That’s the older one, right? The one you had the row with about the dragon?”

“Yeah,” Charlie agreed.

“So it’s – Bill, you, Percy, George, Ron, and Ginny, isn’t it?”

Charlie nodded. “That’s right.”

“And everyone but you and Percy are married?”

“Yeah.” Oh, Merlin, his mother was probably going to harp on about  _ marriage, _ now.

“I just want to make sure I’ve got it straight, you know,” Rolf said. “I quite like you – and I do want to make sure you’re aware that I try my best to be upfront about everything. Sometimes I can come across as quite blunt, really.”

“I don’t mind blunt,” Charlie said. “I prefer it to hedging around the issue.”

Rolf smiled, and  _ Merlin, _ Charlie felt his stomach twist. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d liked someone this much after a first date and a shag. It’d have had to have been well over a decade.

* * *

His mother, quite predictably, caught him while he was putting on his (ethical, of course) dragonhide boots.

“I take it the date went well?”

Charlie cursed how quick he was to blush. “I’m getting dressed for work, Mum.”

“Rolf seemed like a very nice young man,” Molly continued. “And how often do you meet gay magizoologists?”

Quite often, really, and Rolf wasn’t actually  _ gay; _ he was bisexual. But Charlie didn’t say that. That would be admitting his mother was right.

“His father was – well, I was surprised to hear he’d married a witch,” Molly said. “Though by all accounts, they are  _ deeply _ in love.”

Bill’d married a witch he was in love with, too, but Charlie wasn’t about to out him. Surely very few people Bill had known at Hogwarts  _ hadn’t _ been surprised to hear about that. Penny Haywood had told him outright in a letter when she’d gotten her invitation.

“You never told me you knew Newt Scamander’s son,” Charlie said instead.

“Oh, we’d long lost touch by the time you were born,” Molly said. “We went to school together, but I’d have not called us  _ friends. _ And I knew you’d have not been pleased if I’d tried to write him to ask to help you get ahead in your career.”

Well, that much was true. He hadn’t wanted anything handed to him, and he’d quite proven himself in that regard.

“Anyway, let Rolf know that I’d love to have him over for dinner any time he’d like.”

_ “Mum.” _

“Honestly, Charlie. You come in the next morning wearing the same clothes – and do you really think I haven’t noticed that mark on your neck?”

Charlie reached a hand up to cover it self-consciously. He had a hickey. Like a teenager. Merlin.

“You know I just want you to be happy.”

_ “And _ you want grandchildren.”

“Well, yes, of course,” Molly said. “But I can wait a few years for the two of you to get settled in for that.”

**Author's Note:**

> visit me on [tumblr](http://xslytherclawx.tumblr.com)
> 
> * * *
> 
> Please feel free to join my [discord server](https://discord.gg/yb6bS3c)! It’s a general Harry Potter server


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